I have a tradition of breaking juice cleanses. The first time was in 2002, when I tried juice cleansing with my friend Justin. We made it six hours before devouring a wedge of Gouda cheese from Whole Foods. The second time was in 2011. I lasted two agonizing days on the Master Cleanse before meeting Jonah for cocktails and a cheese plate.

So now it’s 2016, and I’m halfway through a three-day juice cleanse and feeling fine. Peeing a lot. Not super hungry. Not on a euphoric juice high, but neither do I feel like I’m coming down with the flu, as I did on the Master Cleanse. It’s looking like I might actually finish this cleanse, though I really thought I’d be shitting pinworms and coughing up ropes of phlegm by now, because isn’t expelling gross things from your body the entire point? Anyway, here’s what’s been helping me through it.

If I get hungry, I drink more juice. Calorie restriction is not my goal, so if the old stomach starts a-grumblin’ I squeeze an orange and drink its sweet, sweet fruit blood.

This is on top of an already ample regimen of six prepared juices a day. I’m using Raw Republic‘s plan, which includes hearty nut-milk juices. Also, having the juice prepared for me makes this a lot easier. I got sick of squeezing lemons on the Master Cleanse and disgusted with the juicer’s fruit pulp with the 2002 attempt. The price for a three-day cleanse is $150 at Raw Republic, which isn’t cheap, but considering the cost of fresh produce and how much work juicing is, it’s not that bad.

I substitute detox-y activities for eating. Yeah, I know the concept of “detoxing” is nebulous and contentious. However, there’s something pleasant about dry skin brushing, clay masks and Epsom salt baths, all of which I have used to substitute my regular evening routine of popping a bottle of wine and cooking dinner with Bryan.

I’m not battling caffeine withdrawal on top of everything else. I stocked up on herbal teas and I’m continuing my two-cup-a-day green tea habit.

I’m reading vegan blogs and other pro-juice stuff that makes me feel great and noble for juicing, while studiously avoiding Instagram (hello, king cake pictures).

And that’s about it. Update: Today is day three, so yeah, pretty sure I’m gonna make it through this cleanse. It is not nearly as life-changing as these things are made out to be, but hey, I drank a lot of delicious juice and don’t have to be curious any more. SUCCESS.

Last week I got microblading done on my eyebrows. I’ve reported on makeup artist Michelle Martinez of Beso Makeup a couple times, first for her brow-shaping salon and then for her brow tattooing (aka micropigmentation). I wanted to get my eyebrows tattooed, but it’s expensive ($500) and the effects are a little bolder than what I wanted. So when Michelle launched microblading, which has softer, semi-permanent results (six to nine months) and a lower price tag ($300), I was all, SIGN ME UP. Which she graciously did, and even gave me a discount because of the writeup.

At my appointment, I filled out a ton of paperwork. Then Michelle trimmed and tweezed my eyebrows to refine their shape. She put numbing cream on them for about 10 minutes. I was pretty confident I could handle the pain because I have been tattooed so many times. I was wrong. This is an entirely different sensation from getting tattooed by a machine with needles, and I found it way more intense. Microblading is a teeny, tiny blade dipped in pigment slicing your eyebrow again and again. And that’s exactly what it feels like. My eyes watered profusely the whole time and I sneezed repeatedly. Tons of gross mucous and tears everywhere–bring Kleenex. It REALLY HURTS! But it didn’t take longer than 30 minutes from start to finish. When I go for my touchup, I’m going to slap some Dr. Numb on my eyebrows two hours ahead of time and eat a fistful of Advil. (Which is probably just two Advils.)

After she’d finished slicing me, Michelle placed more pigment on the open wounds and let it sink it. My results immediately after the procedure are above. Pretty #onfleek, as the youths say. I felt like my brows were overly intense and borderline villainous, but nobody commented on the change. I washed my brows twice daily and covered them with A&D lotion, as my aftercare sheet suggested. Here are the brows on day two.

Over the course of the week, they itched like any new tattoo would, but didn’t really flake. They did fade drastically, arriving at a very natural but pleasingly shaped end result. Here they are after one week. (I dyed my hair dark purple that week, too, but the setting and lighting is the same.)

You get a free touchup with your appointment, so I’m curious to see how they look after another session. I am extremely happy with the finished effect. As someone who is vain but doesn’t want to spend time on makeup, I find this a good investment. I will definitely get microblading done again in six months or so. Might even graduate to the hard stuff…micropigmentation.

Yes. Here’s the worst/best (as in most entertaining) feedback I got from angry middle-aged Germans:

We were very scared about the unkempt house. So much dirt especially in the bathroom and in the kitchen we ( Europeans ) not used.

What Carlo loved about your listing: “The bikes offered. Nothing more, unfortunately!!!” What Carlo thinks you can improve: “Cleanliness!!! We have never experienced such a ungepfechtes house. The brought us towels were used partly by the hosts, dirty and with holes, milk that we bought and had “our” Trade in the refrigerator was consumed , not much.

Candle wax on the dresser in the living room , everywhere and dirty . ”

I am not the greatest neighbor. I mow the lawn maybe once every few months —infrequently enough that well-intentioned neighbors have stopped by with business cards referring me to their lawn guys. I’m an Airbnb host, so there’s a constant stream of travelers in and out of my home. And I’m in a band and my boyfriend is in several, so we practice there… loudly and often.

Some people might call me a flat-out awful neighbor. But I don’t care. Because everyone on my block is equally bad, if not worse.

I don’t want to point any fingers, because I do still have to live here. But the trouble began before I even moved in, when the house was still in its construction phase. I stopped by to check out the progress and meet my neighbors Andy and Terry.

“You know someone’s been smoking crack in the porta-potty,” Andy said, gesturing toward the back yard.

Another neighbor warned me not to report the crackhead, because he or she had family in the New Orleans Police Department, and the cops wouldn’t bother showing up. I don’t know if it was the toilet crack smoker or not, but somebody broke into my house days before inspection, turned on the tap and let it run for a whole weekend. The floorboards warped; the sheetrock had to be replaced and the building had to be treated for mold. Insurance covered the damage, but it set back my move-in date by almost a year.

The problems didn’t stop when I moved in. I lock down everything on my porch —wire ropes as thick as corn snakes twine through the white wicker chairs and table. But that didn’t stop my neighbors (again, I’m not pointing fingers, though I have suspects) from stealing an extension cord, a lawn mower, countess mail deliveries (I now have things shipped to my work) and even my recycling bin.

This past summer, someone set a fire in my front yard, stole my garbage can for the second time and proceeded to dump a reeking pile of slimy, rotten leaves and empty liquor bottles in my side yard. I couldn’t even dispose of the refuse because I had no trash can. At first I thought I was being targeted, but I’ve come to believe, no, I don’t have an enemy. Just some really terrible neighbors.

I’ve spent countless hours with my favorite neighbors discussing the problems on our block. Not just the thievery or the feral cats. But also more personal problems. Such as: Neighbor A thinks the Neighbor B is a witch who murdered her live-in boyfriend. Neighbor B says Neighbor A is a “sad example of what’s wrong with our mental health system.”

Although my neighbors are, in some ways, the worst neighbors I’ve ever had, they’re actually the greatest neighbors I’ve ever had. We bond over the block’s petty thievery and bitter rivalries. I’ve been to their backyard bonfires, their searingly loud industrial music concerts and their funerals/block parties, when a second line with a brass band and horse-drawn hearse rolled down our crumbling brick street.

I have lived in a lot of neighborhoods across New Orleans, spanning 17 years, and this is the first place where I’ve not only known my neighbors, but felt deep affection for them. They seem to like me, too, and I’m grateful for that, just as I’m weirdly grateful for their eccentricities: the roaming pit bulls, the drunken profanities yelled out on dewy, rose-gold mornings. Because that means I can throw parties and play music as loud as I want to.

I don’t consider myself the bad neighbor, but I would be the bad neighbor. Anywhere but here.

I remember ye olden days of unsolicited submissions (circa 2002-2005 for yours truly), when I’d buy stamps and manila envelopes and proceed to abuse the shit out of the free printer in the graduate assistants’ office. You actually had to mail in hard copies back then, and you could buy a copy of Writer’s Market for submission guidelines, but pretty much every publication asked you to “subscribe to the quarterly to familiarize yourself with our tone before submitting” or something along those lines. And I was like, yeah, I’m going to pony up $30 plus this postage plus a reading fee. I MAKE $600 A MONTH. FUCK YOU.

So by necessity, I did a lot of throwing shit at the wall and seeing what stuck. (This remains my career strategy, in many ways.) Anyway, the point of that story is that thanks to the Internet it is SO MUCH EASIER to do what these literary magazines were asking me to do back in the early aughts, which is READ THE PUBLICATION. And reading is what got me my second acceptance this month, by xoJane.com.

If you read this blog, you know this is not the first time I’ve written for xoJane. But it had been a couple years, and I hadn’t felt the burning desire to tell any really embarrassing stories about myself. Until I happened to be READ(ing) THE PUBLICATION and I happened across the story of a woman who dated a public masturbator (PM).

Preach on, sister. Someone knows my pain, I thought.

It turned out the author actually didn’t know my pain. She had UNKNOWINGLY dated a PM. And the commenters complained that like me, they felt let down by the story’s false promise. Give us a real PM story, they implored.

The world was ready for my story. So I sent this pitch letter.

Dear xoEditors:

When I saw “I Went Out With A Subway Masturbator” pop up on my Facebook feed, I clicked without hesitation. Someone had made the same mistake I’d made and gathered courage to talk about it. So I was bummed to find out Anonymous and I weren’t THAT similar. (Aside from the public masturbator dating part.)You see, I once dated a public masturbator. And masturbating in public was exactly the thing he was doing when I first laid eyes on him. Yet I went on to date Public Masturbator, who became known among my friends as simply PM, for the better part of a summer. Was I insane? Desperate? Overly open-minded? Honestly, I still haven’t figured that out. Five years after the romance, the question I’m left with is, where was my better judgment? Attached, please find my 1,321 word essay about the experience for your consideration. I have written two essays for xoJane.com in the past (here and here), and I also write for Thrillist, HelloGiggles, Country Living and many other internetty outlets. Thank you for your consideration.

.

You might assume writing for xoJane in the past would have helped me get my foot in the door, but I don’t think it did in this instance, because the editors took me for a new contributor and sent over the contract and bio instructions and everything. Anyway, the story went up fast and the commenters rejoiced. And by rejoiced I mean rejoiced the way a jackal rejoices when it bags a succulent young gazelle. The comments changed from THIS IS NOT A REAL PUBLIC MASTURBATION STORY GIVE US A REAL PUBLIC MASTURBATION STORY to

OH MY GOD WHY WOULD YOU DATE A PUBLIC MASTURBATOR YOU STD-RIDDLED IDIOT

And I earned $50. And I was very, very amused. STAY TUNED for more successful pitch letters.

This month, I’ve had a really lucky streak when it comes to writing. I pitched three publications and got three acceptances. I hope this trend continues. And in the name of greater transparency (which the publishing industry, and actually, just about every industry, would benefit from), I want to share my pitch letters and also disclose how much I earned for each story.

Success one was Thrillist. My homie g and colleague Scott Gold has a steady gig writing for Thrillist, so their pieces are very much on my radar. I have a good sense of the Thrillist tone and style, I like to think. I was nosing around for contributor guidelines on their website and I saw Thrillist was looking to hire a health writer. Hey! I am a health writer. I even won a prize once. Anyway, I felt qualified enough to bang out the following cover letter.

Dear Marjorie Ajero and Thrillist folks:

I live in what might be the nation’s unhealthiest city: New Orleans. The land of drive-through daiquiri shops and 24-hour bars, it’s where millions of tourists get in touch with their most debauched selves. It’s also where I train for half-marathons and cover health as special sections editor at Gambit Weekly, New Orleans’ alt-weekly newspaper.

My favorite assignments involve offbeat takes on familiar health subjects. For example, everyone knows about LASIK, but how many people have heard of PRK, the surgery’s older, more painful predecessor? I wrote afirsthand accountof my PRK surgery for Gambit last spring (and Youtubed the surgery footage). Another assignment saw me floating in a sensory deprivation tank — a therapy which many studies back as beneficial. In 2013, I won New Orleans’ Council of Alcohol & Drug Abuse’s media award for my coverage of addiction. I’ve also freelanced for clients including Conde Nast (BRIDES), Marriott Traveler, Fodor’s travel guides, xoJane.com, HelloGiggles.com and Zagat (as part of Google’s GeoEditorial team).

All in all, my readers might be drunken, costumed and more likely to suck down a Hand Grenade than a green smoothie. But I like to think my health reporting lets these hedonists live their best lives. That’s what I’d like to do for Thrillist readers.

Thank you for your consideration.

Then they contacted me and asked for pitches. I became very excited and sent these:

The pull-out method: man’s most underrated form of birth control?

We’ve heard the jokes. (What do you call men who use the pull-out method? Fathers.) And obviously, the pull-out method takes a little more, um, discipline than barrier or hormonal methods. But did you know that when used correctly, its fail rate (15 to 28 percent) is no worse than that of condoms, diaphragms and cervical caps? Here are more reasons why the pull-out method is a valid form of birth control—not just a punchline.

This classic New Orleans gym where Tennessee Williams worked out also has a full bar

New Orleans doesn’t hurt for places to drink: Bourbon Street bars, college bars, neighborhood bars, gay bars, sports bars…and then there are the bars that aren’t even in bars. You can get a cocktail or draft beer atNew Orleans Athletic Club, a health club founded in 1872 that boasts Corinthian columns, chandelier-hung weight rooms, cast-iron detailing and celebrity clients (everyone from Kate Hudson to Clark Gable has worked out there). Of course, the bar offers smoothies—but hey, you just worked out. Everything in moderation, including healthy habits.

Burlesque fitness classes

They’re 2015’s answer to pole dancing classes, without the weird bruises. The New Orleans School of Burlesquelaunches this month, with sister schools in Chicago, New York and Seattle. Is burlesque a good workout? Do participants actually strip? Are guys welcome? Can you be the world’s next burlesque star? Together, we’ll explore this glittery world of pasties and boas.

Running while high: terrible idea or a genius one?

A2014 paperpublished in the Journal of Cardiovascular Medicine shows you can booze it up without negatively affecting your performance level. Can the same be said for pot smoking? Could being high actually improve a runner’s high? I’ll be a guinea pig here.

How to mail yourself weed and not get busted

We’re living in a golden age for stoners… or, at least a Golden Pineapple age. But what if you’re not a lucky denizen of Washington or Colorado? Fear not, members of the unbaked 48— I’ve successfully mailed myself marijuana, and YOU CAN TOO. If you’re willing to commit a federal offense, read on for tips.

Taking care of a new tattoo while training for a race. Let’s say you have a long-distance race looming. You’re right in the middle of your training plan when, boom! That booked-up tattoo artist you follow on Instagram has an opening. Will you wreck your new ink if you work out in the days after getting tattooed? Will a large open wound compromise your physical stamina? I’ll weave in my experience getting a large-scale tattoo (I had sessions every two weeks for about a year) while training for my first half-marathon.

Of these pitches, Thrillist asked me to write the stoned running story, which I was delighted to accept. I was paid $100 for the assignment and offered three more. So that is pretty cool. STAY TUNED for more successful pitches. And maybe a blog entry about mailing yourself drugs. But probably not. But maybe.

I used to avoid befriending New Orleans transplants, because loving them is a dangerous game. Their AmeriCorps stints end or they get accepted to grad school or they have a kid and decide to move someplace with good public schools… and I’m alone, so alone with my fellow Louisiana natives, bitching in dive bars over bloody marys at noon about how much transplants suck.

Yeah, sorry about that. Y’all don’t suck. New Orleans is a port city and as such has always been defined by its travelers. We need you; we welcome you and we miss you when you’re gone. Having said that, here are some ways to make your departure sting a little less.

Don’t make a big scene about how you’re leaving because the city has changed, the crime has gotten worse, you don’t feel safe or whatever. I remember one friend of mine proclaimed, “New Orleans is over!” after his favorite squat got converted into swanky loft apartments. But having observed this city for close to four decades, I can say it hasn’t changed all that much, except for in 2005, when 80 percent of it flooded. And even then it got pretty much back to business as usual within a few years, high murder rate, corrupt politicians, Saints fervor and all. We go through phases of our life, and your new phase may necessitate a different city, and that’s fine. Just don’t bash New Orleans because you’re ready to move on. Because truthfully? It’s really not us. It’s you.

Open your new home to friends when they need to evacuate. Having lived here, you know it’s a question of when, not if, you’ll have to pack up and leave all your worldly possessions at the mercy of a hurricane. So tell your NOLA friends that when the next Big One comes, they have a place to stay. That should guarantee you a spot to crash for Jazz Fest.

Give away your stuff. Unload your valuables on Craigslist or Buffalo Exchange first (moving is pricey and I get that you need the $$$), but then, if you want to be super sweet, donate unwanted stuff to Goodwill, put it out on a free table for neighbors to pick up, or share it with friends. My neighbor Adriane Quinlan gave me first dibs of her unwanted clothes, and I am now proud owner of a vintage Icelandic stewardess dress.

Tell your friends your apartment is opening up, but also list it on Craigslist. If you have a good spot with affordable rent, you’ll definitely want to hook your friends up. But you should also make it available to the general public via Craigslist, a cardboard FOR RENT sign outside or some other outlet. It’s not always easy to find affordable housing, and New Orleans has more than enough nepotism. This is one small way to change that.

Visit. Come back to New Orleans whenever you can–if that’s just Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest, great. But it would be even greater if you could come more often than that and maybe during times of the year that aren’t insane. That being said, we really don’t care when you come back. We just want to see you.

Become a truth-speaking evangelist for New Orleans. It staggers me how many misconceptions are out there about New Orleans. If you hear people talking smack about its citizens, Katrina response or anything else, please gently set them straight. Remind them of the challenges its citizens face, such as living in the world’s prison capital. Please also let the world know about the double-whammy impact of climate change and a rapidly disappearing coastline.

Continue to support Louisiana businesses. Order king cake, Community Coffee and Zapp’s, and ask your grocery store to stock Tony Chachere’s if they don’t already. You’ll do NOLA a solid and make your kitchen a vastly more delicious place.

Move back to New Orleans. Sometimes, New Orleans ruins you for life anywhere else. I personally find it impossible to be content in a city without Mardi Gras. Don’t fight these feelings. Just move back! I promise you, the city will welcome you with open arms. It will be like you never left… because many of your friends never did.

Last month, Bryan achieved his goal of visiting every state (except Ohio, because he hates it). Hawaii was the last state he visited, for obvious reasons: it’s far away and expensive to visit. HOWEVER. It’s not as expensive as you might think. Bryan and I spent less than $600 each on our weeklong trip, and if we had planned better, we could have done Hawaii on even less. Here’s how.

1. We openedAAdvantage Mastercardswhen they offered 40,000 free miles as an incentive. (The cards are still available, but now they’re offering only 30,000 miles.) Because we used bonus miles for our tickets, we only spent $14 for the flight and $90 to pay the card’s annual fee. Granted, these were red-eye flights with two connections, and finding dates that worked with my vacation time and weren’t blacked out was like some weird Rubik’s cube puzzle, but you can’t beat an almost-free ticket. Flight cost: $104 each

2. We booked a hotel in Honolulu ($150 via Hotwire) for our first night on Oahu. We arrived in Honolulu at 6 a.m. and took the number 52 bus to get from the airport to downtown. Then we asked for a transfer to the 54 bus and took it along the coastline of Oahu, ending in at the North Shore, a cute spot with shops, restaurants and a wine store. This bus line is basically a scenic tour of Oahu for the price of a fare, and we could have stopped and checked out any number of beaches and parks along the route if we hadn’t been bone tired. The bus trip to the North Shore was a little over two hours each way. By the time we’d eaten breakfast, taken the bus and gotten coffee, it was time to check in to the hotel and SLEEP. Cost $2.50 in bus fares. That night, we went to a cheesy hotel bar on the beach (Mai Tai, $12) with all the tiki torch and lei action. Hotel, bus fare and hotel drink: $89.50 each

Bryan watches the sun rise in Honolulu. Instagramming, probably.

3. The next afternoon, we flew to Maui on Hawaiian Airlines. If we could do it again, we might fly directly to Maui to save that expense. However, I’m still glad we got to see Honolulu. We bought these plane tickets last-minute (a few days ahead of time) and paid $196 each.

4. In Maui we picked up our rental car, which we had booked through Hotwire. Car cost: $150 for five days, or $75 per person. You DEFINITELY need a car for getting around Maui, but we could have done with just public transportation in Honolulu.

5. We drove to the nearby Costco for food and a box of wine. People say Hawaii is expensive, and I did find it marginally pricier than New Orleans (but the sales tax is far lower). However, Costco prices are the same at all their stores. We bought peanut butter, pita bread, a couple dozen apples, individually wrapped cheeses, a vat of hummus and a box of wine—plus other sundries—for $70 ($35 per person).

Yours truly, hiking to a cave.

6. We drove the Road to Hana—52.8 miles of winding, terrifying, beautiful mountain roads with scenic overlooks and waterfalls galore—to arrive at Waianapanapa State Park. Definitely camp there if you like deserted black sand beaches and functional restrooms and showers. Book through the government website (be sure to do so well in advance) and print the permit out. Make sure to attach the permit to your tent, because rangers are diligent about checking. (They were less diligent about other things, like enforcing the no-booze rule.) Camping cost: $90 for five nights, or $45 each

An overlook on the road to Hana.

7. We spent the next five days swimming, hiking, charging our cell phones at a beachside community center that that called itself a bakery/coffee shop but was nothing of the sort, exploring the lava tubes, caves, trails and red sand beaches. Maui’s best cuisine comes from roadside fruit stands and food trucks. We especially loved The Surfin’ Burro ($6 for a generously sized fish taco). We stopped by the Garden of Eden Botanical Center ($15 admission), and it was well worth it. Food & sundries: $33

Those were all our major expenses. We could have done Hawaii for a lot cheaper, for around $300 each, if we’d flown directly to Maui, camped every night instead of getting a hotel and eaten just Costco grub. Also, full disclosure, the last night we didn’t camp; instead we stayed in a surreal, gently decayed but sweet 1960s era hotel in Maui (price $75 for the night, total, or $37.50 each) that was closer to the airport and farther from the terrifying mountain death road. I’m glad we spent the money we did, though. It was awesome.

My family photo after hanging for three weeks in floodwaters. I’m wearing the bow.

The 10-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s landfall and the federal levee failures is bearing down on us. If you lived through that shitstorm, like I did, you’re probably experiencing a PTSD-laced speedball of emotions: you don’t want to read any more about it, but you can’t stop reading about it. Maybe you have an urge to write about it, too.

In those weirdly sterile days after the storm, when I sat in my sister’s Baton Rouge apartment alone with my laptop and the sounds of helicopters overhead, I wanted to record what I was experiencing. I knew that as awful as it was, I had been granted a rare opportunity as a writer: the chance to bear witness to a grand-scale tragedy. But my words sounded stupid and false. I couldn’t make sense of the storm. I couldn’t feel anything, aside from a mild sense of curiosity, like someone who’s awake during surgery and watching doctors cut into an anesthetized limb. A k-hole of consciousness with only one focal point: Huh. That’s interesting.

So I was pissed when artists and journalists descended on the Gulf Coast and spun its suffering into art like straw into gold. It wasn’t fair; it wasn’t theirs to use. I thought maybe, 10 years later, I’d have come up with something profound to say, a lesson learned, an insight hard won. But I haven’t. I feel as mute and stupid now as I did then. Maybe this isn’t wrong. Maybe this is the only way you can really react to something like Katrina.

This summer, I’ve met with two friends and colleagues, Katie Walenter and Sophie Lucido Johnson, to talk about Big K and our writing and how to tackle it and whether we want to. Both transplants, Katie moved to New Orleans prior to Katrina and Sophie moved down not long after to teach. Katie said something that resonated with me, “I wasn’t part of the conversation last time. But this time around, I want to be.”

That’s how I feel right now. I am never going to be done with Hurricane Katrina. I’ll never write the gorgeous, meandering personal essay that lands in the New York Times and at the same time loosens Katrina’s greasy, moldy grip on my synapses and pins the experience down in a polished glass box. But with the naively hopeful idea of doing just that, I’ve been collecting journal entries, emails and other hurricane flotsam and jetsom.

So I’m going to present those bits of writing on my blog, and anyone who’s interested in them can comment or ignore them. Exhibit A is a series of emails exchanged by me and my fellow University of New Orleans creative writing workshop students before, during and after the storm. They are presented chronologically below.

Hey, let’s be walking on sunshine!!!! We’re heading out to the Shack Up Inn in Clarksdale, Mississippi — and we’ll be there making mischief if anyone finds themselves propelled northward on I-55 through what would certainly be an understandable contraflow misunderstanding…

The band is playing at Tips next weekend, provided Katrina’s waves remain modest… Drop by if you end up in the hood…

Missy Bowen

And no matter what happens to each of us, it will eventually make a great story.

Well, when Jessica Emerson demands a roll call, who am I to ignore it . … It seems that the worst is moving out of New Orleans now and that’s a huge relief.I’m just praying for all of the people still there. I also hope we all see each other soon. And allow me to add my request for roll call from everyone…

Yes, I am just fine. I’ve been trying to call Jessica so I can talk to all of you, but a lot of the cell phone towers here are out.

My aunt, uncle, cousins, and grandmother were all able to evacuate; we have no idea how their houses are, though. I’m guessing that my grandmother’s house in Lakeview is under some serious water, but it is just a house.

Everything is very chaotic in Baton Rouge right now. School at LSU is cancelled until the 6th because a lot of the buildings are being used as emergency shelters. Helicopters keep going overhead. There are long lines at all the gas stations, at least at the ones that actually have gas. I still haven’t been able to see a television, but Ijust talked to a guy (I’m sending this email from the LSU Union) who came from New Orleans and he said “Whatever you’ve seen on T.V., it’s worse.”

I better go, there are a bunch of people behind me in line waiting to email their loved ones.

And this has been an interesting house, sort of a way station for refugees. Nine new evacuees showed up late last night — 4 cats, 3 dogs, and two humans. It seems that a mandatory door-to-door evacuation is about to take place in New Orleans, only the officials won’t evacuate pets. I feel like the underground railroad, taking in contraband animals, feeding them, sending them on their way to points north, west, east. Good luck and godspeed.

Aside from the occasional good deed, it’s been a lot of Evan Williams and Miller High Life that gets me through all the Fox News. They like Fox News here. One more minute, however, of Bill O’Reilly telling me that the poor deserved to die because they didn’t save enough money to buy a car when they had the chance, and it’s possible I’ll snap and attack the Fox transmission tower with my bare hands. Or at least one bare hand – I can’t put BOTH drinks down.

Amanda and I are going down to N.O. on Monday with a couple of press passes. Our real mission is not so much an article as trying to save our cat and some other peoples’ pets. If anyone needs us to try and do the above with your pet, please let us know.

We also managed to get into Orleans with a special emergency worker pass Lee had, and it was good times until the curfew passed and the National Guard told us we would probably get shot.But that’s for a blog entry to be written when I get back to Pensacola.

It is my fullest intent that we are going to finish fall Workshop courses, all of them through distance learning measures, as we go along in the fall. …As I have read your e-strings over the last couple of days, I have been impressed once again of the incredible love you have for each other. Please know that I share that love for all of you. That’s among the chief reasons I want to keep workshops together through the internet this fall, so that, however far apart you all are, you can still be together.

With a swollen heart of missing for you all.

Rick Barton

Subject: Calling out from the trenches; it’s good to be home Date: Thu, 06 Oct 2005 11:21:16 -0400

Hello from NOLA.

Colin and I have been home for almost a week. In this time, we’ve seen progress and despair, but the people are strong and caring and neighbors. We came in on the Hwy 11 bridge, through the shredded weatherboards and pick up sticks of Eden Isles and Oak Harbor, onto I-10, past the grey ghost towns of the East and the 9th ward, to 90 West and alongside the sky line (standing torn but firm). In a thirty minute span of time, we felt the sadness you all know, but we also felt hope. The city, in parts, is breathing– stronger than the whimpers on the national news. She’s waiting for you all.

Life is not normal, but moments here will make you fall in love with our town all over again. Yesterday, as we struggled to get a new refrigerator into our home, the FBI pulled up to help. So did the UPS man. Our garbage was picked up today, which sent Colin into a weird celebration dance I’ve only seen during Saints victories. The sweetest moment: a national guardsman, baby-faced, fully dressed in combat gear, rifle in hand, stands in an ice cream shop and says, “cookies and cream, please.” The chef replied, “on the house.”

You can buy gas, groceries, and stamps. You can visit a number of bars, even past curfew. You can dine out with linen napkins and real silverware. You can meet people who get it– all of it. Every emotion you’ve experienced in these weeks. They know.

For all of you who can come home, those who still have a resting place, know that the city is ready for you.

The mood of those of us living here continues to be fluid. There’s been an uptick in activity since December began as people seek to situate themselves for the holidays. The pace of moving back, and moving away, has picked up. People stare wistfully at moving vans, wondering if they signal another arrival or another departure.

Christmas decorating has begun in earnest. There’s been a conspicuous rise in suicides. Faith in the city government fluctuates with each morning’s headlines: new plans approved, more bodies found. Faith in the federal government is non-existent and many people feel we’ve been written off as the administration returns its energies to the war and scandal damage control. We worry about misleading reports in the national media saying we’re not worth saving (60 Minutes) or that everything is back to normal (the Rush Limbaugh Show). We grow tired of the news media using the French Quarter as a barometer for the rest of the city. If I need to go anywhere out side my neighborhood, I still have to drive through miles of utter destruction to get there.

And you hear reports everyday of sheetrock being hung, new leases being signed, new appliances moved in. It’s a struggle, but it goes on, and I guess that’s the most important thing.

Madeline Dyer is pretty amazing. She signed her first book contract when she was 19. She trains Shetland ponies. She’s a college student. And she does all this while managing a disorder called Ehlers-Danlos syndrome type 3. Madeline also is indirectly responsible for me getting a book contract with Prizm: on a private Facebook group for women writers, she shared news of her book debut. I thought, Hmm, that manuscript sounds similar to mine… Maybe I should submit to Prizm, too. I did, and the rest is history. Madeline’s novel, UNTAMED, came out the month before DESTROYING ANGEL, so we have been navigating the ups and downs of a book launch together—her support has been invaluable.

UNTAMED is spotlighted this week as part of #quietYA, a roundup of 21 under-the-radar YA novels. Keep your eye on that Twitter hashtag today to learn about other underrated YA authors and nab giveaways. In this interview, Madeline talks all about writing.

UNTAMED is your debut novel, but it is not the first book you’ve written. How many full-length manuscripts did you write before penning UNTAMED?

Before writing UNTAMED, I’d completed two other full-length novel manuscripts, as well as a 40,000 word novella. I’m sure that all three of these manuscripts trained me up to write UNTAMED, even though they’re all very different genres to my debut, which is a YA dystopian novel. Writing these manuscripts really helped me find my narrative voice and I had so much fun with them! I’ve recently been rewriting and editing one the second of the full-length manuscripts (a YA mythology-based fantasy), and I hope to get it ready for submission soon.

You’re also a horse trainer and university student. What does a typical day look like for you?

Yes! That makes me sound so busy! I live on a farm where we have Shetland ponies. My stallion, Victor, recently passed his VVE SPSBS stallion inspection and is now a licensed stallion; he was the first foal I ever bought and trained on my own, teaching him how to walk and trot on a lead-rope, be happy having his feet picked up—that sort of thing. My parents showed me how to train foals, as they’ve been breeding Shetlands for nearly 30 years, and they’re always on-hand. I also trained our youngest mare, Bluebell, when she was a foal too. We do breed from our ponies, but we’re now quite a small stud, generally aiming for a foal a year. Our ponies are definitely more like pets to us than breeding stock—and we only breed foals so long as we’re able to look after them, physically and financially, as there’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to find a suitable new owner for a young pony. Plus, I always want to keep the foals! But the majority of the work I do with our ponies isn’t the training. It’s the day-to-day care: feeding, grooming, mucking out stables, health checks. Our ponies really do feel like family.

And, yes, I also attend Exeter University, and have just finished the second year of an English degree. So my days do get quite busy, especially when I try to fit in writing too—but I don’t attend uni everyday, as I’m on a reduced timetable for health reasons.

So, yeah, a typical day tends to start with looking after the ponies (and our other animals), and then heading to uni for a seminar, before returning to do more with our ponies. And then there’s the writing too that I try to fit in—but often don’t manage on the days when I do attend uni. I don’t really have a definite daily routine (other than seeing to the ponies every morning and evening), as I’m often required to be at uni at different times—and I have hospital appointments to schedule in too.

You are a very prodigious writer. How do you feel when you’re writing? Do you look forward to it?

Thank you! I definitely look forward to writing—even on the days when I don’t actually feel like it… it’s the feeling afterwards, once I’ve written for the day, and have added so many thousand words to my current manuscript that I particularly love.

I’m curious about your novel writing process. I read that you wrote UNTAMED in 28 days and edited it in eight weeks. How long did you work each day? Do you give your manuscripts to critique partners for feedback?

Yes, I find it easier to write the first drafts as quickly as possible, usually spending between an hour and five hours on a manuscript each day. I’ve had times where I’ve written 12,000 words in a day! Editing always takes longer, as does rewriting, as that’s the time when I really think about the overall manuscript and its arcs, evaluating it in a more analytical way. First drafts are a lot freer and rather messy!

So, yes, I wrote UNTAMED in just under a month in June 2013, and then spent September 2013 and January 2014 doing substantial edits and rewrites—the months in between June and September were spent drafting the rest of the Untamed Series. I have a group of lovely beta-readers and some awesome critique partners who really helped me develop UNTAMED.

I find it amazing that you signed a contract when you were 19. You got four offers for UNTAMED. What made you choose Prizm Books?

Thank you! As soon as I got the offer from Prizm Books, I was so excited and I was pretty sure that I wanted to go with them. Not only was their contract good, but they were also the company that had been established the longest out of the four who had made me offers. I was also very pleased with the distribution network that Prizm has.

What do you hope to accomplish with your career as a writer? Where do you want to be when you’re 30?

Well, I’d love to be a full-time writer so I can spend as much time in these made-up worlds as possible! I’d love to have several novels (and, hopefully, series!) under my belt by the time I’m 30.

What writers do you most admire, and why?

There are so many! The ladies in my critique group are pretty awesome, and I admire how disciplined they are with their writing. But I also really admire writers such as Richelle Mead and Rick Yancey, because I know each book that they release will be fantastic.

You have mentioned that you have a chronic illness. How does that affect your writing, if at all?

I’m diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome type 3 (a genetic connective tissue disorder) and went on to develop Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (a disorder of the autonomic system which) when I was 17. The first one doesn’t really affect my writing a great deal, unless I dislocate something, or if I’ve been sitting awkwardly, as my ribs do have a tendency to slip around a bit! But it’s the second chronic condition that affects my writing more; POTS means I can’t stand stationary for long without fainting, and I’m also affected if I sit really upright. Because of this I find it really difficult to sit at a table, so can’t really work at a desk, as I get the tachycardia response where my heart rate often doubles and my blood pools, limiting the amount of oxygen I get to my brain. Therefore, I do most of my writing on the sofa, where I can curl up or raise my feet to stop the blood pooling, and think more clearly. But POTS also causes excessive fatigue too and visual disturbances, which can make it tricky to write at times, or feel motivated to write.

But, I’m sure that being a writer has really helped me cope with having these two conditions. Even though there are a lot of things I physically can’t do (especially on bad days), I still have my imagination—and it’s my writing that defines me, not my illnesses.

What is your advice for aspiring writers?

To write every day, preferably getting into a regular routine. And write what you want to write, not what you think you should be writing, or what someone else wants to read. Writing’s such a personal thing, so I think you have to be really into what you’re writing—readers can tell if you aren’t.

What has been the most surprising challenge when it comes to launching a book?

Definitely the promotion and marketing side. Before I got a book deal, I really was in the dark about how to promote an upcoming book. But it was kind of fun learning! I’ve written lots of guest posts and blog posts which have really helped get my name out there. Promotion can be challenging, but it’s so rewarding to see the results.

Anything else you would like readers to know?

In writing UNTAMED, I wanted to create a protagonist who felt real and had flaws, but could still be considered strong. So many times, I’ve read YA novels where the main characters were always so athletic, excellent at fighting, and so confident and able to stand up for themselves no matter what, but I couldn’t always relate to them. I wanted to write a character who felt more human, someone who had flaws. Yet, I also wanted my main character to be able to be considered strong at times—to show that ‘ordinary’ teenagers can be strong too, even if they have periods of self-doubt, and feel intimidated by certain people. Because of this, I’ve been particularly pleased at the feedback I’ve had from readers about UNTAMED; many have picked up on how real Seven felt, liking how she had obvious flaws, yet still these readers saw an inner-strength to her, and admired her for it. This was really important to me.

—

Madeline Dyer is the author of Untamed, a YA dystopian fantasy novel from Prizm Books (May 2015). She is currently working on book two in the Untamed Series, as well as a new dystopian trilogy for adults. Keep up with her on Twitter, Facebook or her website.